


do i dare disturb the universe?

by piperreynas



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, Stardust (2007)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - High Fantasy, F/F, also this is v heavily focused on reyna nd annabeth so, and i definitely exceeded the limits of the bang but who cares!, and still not finish, djfhksjdf this was supposed to include thylla i just remembered, not much of the characters from the riordanverse are included besides reyna hylla nd annabeth, oh welp, this is ridiculously long
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-06-14 14:27:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15390753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piperreynas/pseuds/piperreynas
Summary: there was once a young woman who wished to gain her heart’s desire. and while that is, as beginnings go, not entirely novel (for every tale about every young woman there ever was or will be could start in a similar manner) there was much about this young woman and what happened to her that was unusual, although even she never knew the whole of it. the tale started, as many tales have started, in Wall.in which reyna finds a star, kind of saves the world and falls in love. not necessarily in that order. written for thepjofemslashminibang





	1. part one

**Author's Note:**

> notes: this fic is based on stardust, a novel by neil gaiman, that was later adapted into a feature film starring charlie cox, claire danes, and michelle pfeiffer.
> 
> while there are differences in plot structure & cast of characters, both book & film follow the same basic story: a man named dunstan travels across the Wall in the town of wall, against the wishes of a door guard. twenty or so years later, his son, after seeing a star fall from the sky, travels across the same wall to find it (or rather, her).
> 
> i've drawn from scenes both in the book and in the movie to write this fic, but as this is an au, most of the material in this fic is my own writing. i have omitted some scenes that were in the book/movie and added some that were not and changed the names + personalities of a few characters in keeping with the riordanverse, for example: in the original stardust (both book and movie, i think) tristan thorn kidnaps yvaine (the star) with the intention of taking her back to wall to show victoria foerster, (who remains the same in both this fic and the book/movie), although reyna realizes the truth of her character much faster than tristan. in this fic, reyna does not kidnap annaeth, because reyna is, again, infinitely smarter and more sensible than tristan thorn. 
> 
> a few credits/acknowledgements: the text of the letter given to reyna and the spell alecto uses on ditchwater sal were taken from the movie. i imagine that some of the opening description of the town of Wall &/or the kingdom of olympus (derived from stormhold, in the book/movie) are quite similar to descriptions given by gaiman/mckellen. some other lines/details were taken from the magicians series, by lev grossman (for example, the line about the opium in the air came from a description of the fictional kingdom of fillory in bk 1.)
> 
> tw for depictions of violence + injury (stabbing, animal sacrifice, etc.) and minor character death. i've tried to pare these down as much as possible but they may still be trigger for some.

reyna avila ramirez-arellano was something of a strange child.

the villagers of the small town of Wall would’ve liked to say she’d been that way since birth but they couldn’t for sure, as none of them had been present for her birth. she was found flailing about in a wicker basket on the northern side of the wall for which the town was named, a letter and a blown-glass flower tucked into the folds of the down-soft blanket she’d been swaddled in, and a candle nestled into the spot between her hip and the edge of the basket.

it should be noted that the wall in Wall was a haphazard barrier, made of lumpy pitted rock that rose no higher than the average man’s hip with a hole about halfway down that was guarded relentlessly, but the villagers insisted that no one cross it, even despite the fact that there was nothing much to be seen on the other side (unless you were particularly interested in grass). when asked about the wall--or what was on the other side of it--they replied with an outlandish, clearly rehearsed answer about a portal to another land and refused to answer any further questions. the fact that reyna had been found on the not-Wall side of the wall lent her a mystique, an air of danger that she carried with her around the village like a cloud.

no explanation was left for reyna’s arrival except, of course, the letter, which was addressed to her sister, hylla. hylla never opened it, even as reyna grew older and begin to ask questions about who her parents had been and how she had come into hylla’s care; hylla never answered these questions either, in part because she, like the rest of her town, did not like being asked questions, especially if they were about things that she was averse to thinking about, but mostly because she didn't know the answer herself. and so, reyna grew up not happy, but safe and mostly content with her life, and for hylla that was enough. there had never been much happiness to be found in the town of Wall, anyway.

and then one day, reyna met victoria foerster.

victoria foerster was born nearly a month after reyna, and had grown up being told by everyone around her that she was the most beautiful girl they had ever seen. this was true to some extent--there were not many beautiful people to be found in the town of Wall either--and as victoria wasn’t particularly disinclined to believing she was as beautiful as a goddess, she had something of a big head. this ego had convinced her that she deserved nothing less than a palace to live in, and her mother, caroline foerster, had convinced her that the only way to get the palace was through marriage. specifically, to roger humphrey, the wealthiest man in their village (or, he would be after his father died, anyway). as such, she was indifferent to any other advances, and had been since she learned of the humphreys and their modest fortune.

reyna was the sister of a shop owner, who worked ten hour days and then went back home to tend to the small family farm. her only hope at getting victoria foerster to so much as look at her sideways was to suddenly acquire a pair of wealthy parents who would happily provide her with a very large dowry, which wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. and so reyna resigned herself to a few stolen glances at victoria’s bedroom window under the cover of night and tried to move on.

on sunday, may 4th, reyna walked down the winding path to her house and paused outside victoria’s bedroom window, as always. the light was on; she could hear girls laughing, bright and clear. she sighed and walked away, kicking the pebbles that had made their way onto the cobblestones, and then she heard, “hello?”

reyna froze. “he _llo_?” said victoria again, insistently.

reyna turned. victoria was leaning out of her bedroom window. the moonlight washed over her skin, turned her long hair almost golden, and in that moment she looked every inch the goddess she believed herself to be. “hello,” said reyna, swallowing.

victoria grinned beatifically. “how’d you like to go for a walk?”

 

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olympus was the oldest kingdom in the world. nobody, not even the people who lived there, really knew how large it was as it was constantly growing in both size and populace, but everyone was sure that, in its entirety, it was a fearsome thing to behold, especially under the banner of their king (although the onset of his illness had somewhat diminished the populace's belief in this).

his surviving sons gathered around his bedside, with no small measure of anticipation (and of course, a small bit of grief). the rest watched from atop the headboard, translucent and misshapen and discontented, as ghosts are. their father raised a wrinkled hand. “hyperion,” he rasped softly.

hyperion leaned forward, an expectant gleam in those pale eyes of his. “yes, father?” iapetus huffed, resting his bloated chin on one ghostly hand. he still hadn’t quite come to terms with his drowning at hyperion’s hands.

“go to the balcony.” hyperion went. “tell me what you see.”

hyperion looked down to see the cliffside on which the palace of olympus had been built at the behest of his father, for the price of an exorbitant amount of jewels along with the lives of more than a few laborers. he looked further, to see the peaks of the buildings of the capital city, the dome of the baron’s quarters in the middle of the town square. “the city, father,” he answered.

“and?” said the king.

hyperion looked back at his father and the veritable mountain of plush comforters he was currently buried in, and tried for a smile. “ _my_ city?” he said, tremulously.

oceanus, the eldest, sighed. his dead brothers scoffed. “look harder,” said the king. kronos, the youngest, silently joined his elder brother on the balcony.

hyperion craned his neck. “i see--” the rest of his words were cut off with a scream. his skull cracked open against the rocks at the base of the cliff. the birds flew from the tree tops, screeching. kronos leaned back on his heels, smirking.

the king laughed jovially. “what an idiot!”

hyperion scoffed, affronted, and whooshed over to join the rest of his fallen brothers.

“well done, kronos!” the king’s laughs turned into a fit of coughs. kronos bowed his head in acknowledgement, his smirk giving way to his usual apathetic calm.

the king sobered. “i had hoped that when my time came there would be only one of you remaining to ascend to the throne.” he sighed, casting a pointed glance at his living sons. “as that is not the case, we’ll have to do this the old fashioned way.” he reached around his neck to undo the clasp of one of his necklaces. he held it up so kronos and oceanus could see the almost obscenely large topaz hanging off the end of the delicate silver chain.

“this belonged to the first king of olympus." as he spoke, the topaz began to glow, as if lit from within. “i must now send it back to that from whence it came. whoever finds it shall be the new king of olympus.”

their father exhaled and slumped against the headboard, then did not move again. oceanus and kronos narrowed their eyes at each other. someone knocked on the door, loudly. oceanus turned his head ever so slightly to look and kronos elbowed his brother out of the way, only to close his fingers around thin air as the topaz shot out of its grasp and went up, towards the stars.

 

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victoria had always been exceptionally pretty, but here, under the light of the moon, she seemed ethereal, unreal, and well. reyna was only human. “it’s such a wonderful night, isn’t it?” victoria was saying, dreamily, staring up at the stars.

“yes,” reyna agreed, even though she hadn’t been listening.

“i should come here more often.”

“yes,” said reyna again. she opened her mouth to say something else, perhaps to offer her hand in marriage, or something equally as ridiculous and overblown, but before she could, something streaked across the sky in a flash of light.

“oh look, a shooting star!” victoria clapped her hands.

reyna shook herself out of her lovelorn stupor. “y’know,” she began, chancing a sideways look at the other girl, “if you make a wish on a shooting star, it’s s’posed to come true.”

“is that right?” victoria said, turning to her with a smirk.

reyna nodded shortly. “it is.”

victoria sighed exaggeratedly. “i wish i could find that star. it’d be worth a fortune.”

“i could get it for you,” reyna blurted, then cursed herself internally.

victoria laughed. “you’re sweet.” she sighed again

reyna frowned. “i mean it,”  she said, now indignant.

victoria laughed again. “ do you, now.”

reyna stood, hiking her skirts up to her knees. victoria craned her neck, alarmed. “do you want the star?” victoria nodded, wide-eyed. “then i’ll go get it,” reyna said, squaring her shoulders and heading back in the direction of her house.

 

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“no,” hylla said, crossing her arms and planting herself in the doorway firmly.

reyna widened her eyes. “please, hylla.”

hylla’s brow furrowed. “absolutely not.”

reyna tried again. “the shooting star is worth money, isn't it? we always need money.”

“really,” hylla said, uncrossing her arms in favor of placing her hands on her hips. “and you’re not going to come back with it just to give it to victoria foerster?”

reyna blushed. “how did you know?”

hylla sighed, reached out to tuck an unruly lock of hair behind her sister’s ear. “this is a small village. word gets around fast.”

reyna looked at the ground. “i don’t see why i can’t go across the wall. that’s where i’m from, isn’t it?”

the soft almost-smile on hylla’s face faltered. “so that’s what this is all about.” reyna said nothing. hylla sighed. “come with me,” she said, traipsing up the narrow steps to their small attic. reyna followed, stooping to fit under the door frame.

hylla patted a spot next to her on the floor. reyna sat. “on june fourth, mr. monday found you by the wall in a wicker basket,” hylla said, pulling said wicker basket out from behind a pile of reyna’s old toys. “you were only a baby. you were alone.”

“i know,” reyna said, because she did.

“mr. monday then gave you to me, because of this letter.” hylla reached into the wicker box and pulled out a piece of cream-colored paper, folded and sealed with bright red wax, yellowing around the edges. hylla’s full name was printed on the front in neat looping cursive. “i never opened it because i didn’t think it would tell me anything,” hylla said, running the pad of her index finger over the seal. she held the letter out.

reyna took it with trembling hands, pulled at the wax seal and unfolded the paper gently. “it’s...it’s addressed to me,” she said, raising her eyebrows.  

hylla blinked. “well then, what are you waiting for?”

reyna sighed and began to read. “‘my dearest reyna. please know that i only ever wanted the best for you. had my mistress allowed it, i would’ve kept you in a heartbeat. my dearest wish is that we will meet someday, but i fear that may not come to pass. regardless, the fastest way to travel is by candlelight. to use it, think of me and only me. i will think of you every day, for always. with love, your mother.’”

she threw her hands up in the air. “‘travel by candlelight?’” she said, her voice thick.

hylla studied her silently, then slowly reached into the wicker basket and retrieved a candle, thick and dark, and then a delicate blown glass flower. “these came with the letter, too.”

reyna stared at them, now suddenly, inexplicably angry. angry at her mother for leaving her, at hylla for keeping this from her, at her father for disappearing into the ether and leaving them to deal with all of this on their own.

“do you want to go?” hylla asked quietly, and all at once, the anger seemed to leave reyna’s person only to be replaced by fear.

“i-i don’t know,” reyna said, worrying at her bottom lip. “i don’t want to leave you alone.” she looked up at her sister, eyes stinging. “do you want me to go?”

hylla reached forward to cup her cheek with a hand. “of course not. but there comes a time when we all must leave.”

reyna crossed her arms and pointedly refused to look at the candle. “i don’t want to go.”

hylla hesitated. “if you’re refusing because of me, you don’t have to. i understand. olympus...olympus is your _home_ , reyna.”

reyna glared at the letter. “my home is _here_ . with you. _this_ \--” she waved a hand in the general direction of the basket, disdainfully. “this changes nothing. i’m staying.” she took the basket and all that had come with it and shoved it back in it’s corner.

they sat there for a moment, the two of them, reyna staring petulantly at the floor, hylla watching her sister pensively, until hylla glanced back at the basket and sighed. “it’s getting late,” hylla said finally, as though afraid reyna would break if she spoke too loudly. “you must be hungry.”

reyna’s stomach growled as if in answer. hylla barked out a laugh, and all at once, everything was back to normal. “come,” hylla said, standing and reaching for reyna’s hand. “i’m going to need some help.”

reyna wrinkled her nose. “i don’t have to peel potatoes again, do i?”

hylla laughed again. “if you want dinner, then yes.”

reyna sighed and let hylla pull her up as she always had. 

 

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it was night in the kingdom of olympus. the winds wailed; the birds stopped their warbling in favor of getting comfortable, the traveling merchants lining the streets glanced warily at their fragile tents, and a star fell from the sky.

the star, as you can imagine, was furious. she wouldn’t take kindly to being knocked out of the sky on any day, but the fact that the stupid rock had nearly displaced three of her sisters on its path was unforgivable.

she had landed with a great _bang_ in the middle of the Dark Wood, promptly clearing out the surrounding half acre of trees, creating a very large, very deep crater and nearly shattering her ankle, but those were the least of her problems--there were few people living in the Wood, but those that did were nonplussed by the occasional loud noise (witchcraft had the tendency to get very loud) and her ankle would heal given a few days, if she didn’t jostle anything too much.

but her fall, loud and dramatic as it had been, had caught the the attention of more than a few of the witches in the area; three of them, the lilium, were the very same witches that had captured and killed her sister years before, which was a very big problem indeed. not that she knew any of this.

she grasped at the sides of the crater and tried to pull herself up, only to fall back down immediately as her ankle protested vehemently. she sighed and leaned back against the crater walls, settling in for a long night. “you’re all safe, aren’t you?” she whispered up at the stars.

“ _hide_ ,” they answered, “ _run_.” the star didn’t answer.

 

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reyna tried any number of things to take her mind off that stupid letter over the next week--watching men fight at the pub after work (loud, violent, and ultimately useless), tending to the pigs (a task she usually left to hylla, and for good reason), watching victoria foerster (which never failed to send her into a dreamlike stupor except, apparently, when she needed it most) but nothing stuck.

(that last thing was particularly ill advised as victoria had now gone back to ignoring her completely, but where before it had been out of disinterest, it was now out of anger. she’d gone home after reyna’s little display at their picnic fully expecting to be rich within the next week (with minimal effort too, everything she’d ever wanted) and woken up the next morning to see reyna slogging away at the shop as though nothing had happened, after which she’d promptly decided that reyna was a lazy no-good peasant who wouldn’t amount to anything and immediately set about the task of making sure anyone who’d listen felt the same way.)

on friday, reyna came home from the shop and tried to light the end of the rake on fire because it too seemed dark and waxy-looking to her sleep-deprived, letter-addled mind and admitted defeat. hylla came home a few hours later to find the pasture still covered in dead leaves and reyna in the attic, staring pensively at the candle, the letter opened and set beside her feet. “reyna?” she said.

reyna dropped the candle as though it really was on fire and whirled around. “hylla,” she said, wide-eyed.

hylla looked from her sister to the letter. “you’re having second thoughts.”

“ _no_ ,” reyna insisted, “i just--”

“want to know more?” hylla said.

“maybe, but i can’t--why in God’s name are you _smiling_?”

hylla sat down in front of her sister, her smile growing. “do you remember your eighth birthday?” reyna did, very vividly. she frequently wished that she could wipe it from her mind. “robert humphrey told you that you were an abomination and that he hated you,” hylla continued, “and you disappeared for two hours and came back covered in leaves with clothespins on the tips of your ears and told robert that your real parents were faeries who would kill anyone that said anything bad about you.”

“i was stupid,” reyna said, covering her face with her hands, “and ridiculous and you _know_ i hate that story.”

“my point is,” hylla said, pulling reyna’s hands away from her face, “you’ve been asking about your parents since the day you started speaking. it’s now been almost twenty years since we found you. wouldn’t you like to know for sure?”

reyna looked to the letter tentatively, then clenched her jaw resolutely. “my mother left me. there’s nothing to find out.”

“your mother wanted you _safe_ , and that’s why she sent you. what if there was something keeping her there? or someone?”

“i don’t owe my mother anything.”

hylla sighed. “no,” she said, picking the candle up off the ground and pressing it into reyna’s hands. “you owe it to yourself.”

“but you--” reyna started, a last ditch attempt to goad hylla into asking her to stay.

“--will be _fine_. go,” hylla said, somehow finding the snowdrop in the midst of all the garbage she’d thrown it into and tucking it into the top of her braid.

reyna looked back at the letter ( _and remember, darling--the best way to travel is by candlelight)_ and lit the candle. nothing happened. reyna stared at the candle, her stomach sinking in horror and disappointment and then. then the candle grew brighter and brighter until it was far brighter than a candle should be, and all of a sudden reyna was moving, hylla was watching wide-eyed, growing farther and farther away, her face bathed in gold, and now she was falling, very fast, and--

“oof,” someone said, pointedly.

reyna lifted her head, ears still ringing for whatever reason, to find herself on top of someone. she sat back on her heels quickly. the girl was young, with skin the same brown as hers and curly blonde hair. “mother?” she said, feeling a bit ridiculous.

the girl laughed. “this is ridiculous,” she said, tipping her head up towards the sky. there was something gleaming around her neck--it was the biggest topaz reyna had ever seen. she leaned forward to touch it, then caught herself and leaned back again.

“so you’re not my mother then.”

the girl threw an incredulous look her way. “no, i’m not your _mother_ ,” she said scathingly. reyna got the sense she was supposed to be offended, but she couldn’t muster it up. the girl huffed, throwing her hair over one shoulder and reyna swallowed and looked away. “in fact,” the girl continued, lifting herself up on her elbows, “i’m not _anyone’s_ mother, and i was quite happy with that until this thing--” she glared down at the topaz “--knocked me right out of the sky! and now i’m stuck in this crater and my leg hurts--” her voice cracked on the last syllable. she stopped talking.

“i’m sorry,” reyna said, because she was. the girl looked like she’d been there for a very long time; the hem of her dress was covered in mud. and then she realized what the girl had said and did a double take--now that she was looking for it, she could see that the girl was glowing, albeit faintly. “you’re...the star?” the girl gave her that look again. reyna laughed. “i thought you’d be a rock, not a human. or, well, human-ish anyway.”

the star said nothing. reyna thought about carting her off to Wall, handing her off to victoria triumphantly, being swept up in victoria’s arms and marrying her--and then she remember the cold, callous way victoria had treated her even before that night in the meadow and thought better of it. “can you walk on your leg?”

“why?” the star asked, sniffing. reyna glanced up at the walls of the crater. the star scoffed. “oh what, you’re going to get me out of here?”

reyna shrugged. “well, i thought i might get myself out of here and seeing as how you’re in here too…”

the star gave her an appraising look, then rolled her ankle a bit. “it’s healed up a little bit,” she said, looking somewhat pleased, “but i don’t think i’ll be walking anytime soon.”

reyna looked around the crater, until she found a spot that wasn’t as steep as everywhere else. “you’re going to have to scoot over there, to the the edge,” she said, finding the candle and taking the snowdrop out of her hair. she felt along the ground until she found the bag she’d had the foresight to grab before the candle had whisked her out here and shoved both the candle and the snowdrop into them. “if you can get over there and climb some of the way up, at least, i can pull you out from up top.”

it was slow, painful work getting her out of that crater, but they managed to do it. after, the two of them slumped against the ground, covered in sweat and mud and God knows what else. reyna’s arms felt as though they were on fire, and the star’s leg didn’t look any better. after what seemed like an hour, or maybe two, the star pushed herself up on her elbows. “thank you. you didn’t have to do that.”

reyna made a noise in acknowledgement. “i can’t think of a way to repay you,” the star said, trying and failing to get up.

“you could tell me your name,” reyna said, dreamily, delirious from exhaustion (and also maybe the opium in the air.)

“annabeth,” the star said. reyna hummed, shifting so her head was on top of the bag and drifting off into a deep, dreamless sleep.

annabeth sighed. she certainly wasn’t going anywhere she mused, and this girl, whoever she was, had helped her. the least she could do was stand watch. she shifted closer and resisted the urge to brush the hair off the girl’s face.

(they stayed that way until the next morning: reyna snuffling into the ground, and annabeth trying very hard to make it seem as though she hadn’t been watching the entire time.)

 

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once upon a time, the lilium had been the most powerful beings in existence. they had flourished off the wave of death and ruin the then-king had left in his wake and built a palace, more opulent than anything the king could’ve dreamed up, perched precariously on a cliff that no mortal would ever live to see.

then, decades later, the king fell ill. his sons, although dastardly in their own right, were nothing compared to what their father had been and so the empire had weakened and with it, the wave of pain and blood that had fueled their spellcraft for so long. the lilium and their precious palace fell into disrepair; their hair began to grey, their skin began to sag. their power waned, until all they could was do menial housekeeping tasks--fly swatting, dusting.

there was nothing and no one in this or any land that would help them regain what they’d lost and for those who’d exhausted all earthly means of finding magic, there was but one other way: to cut out the heart of a star while it still lived and eat it.

most people did not possess the means with which to set a star loose from its place in the sky. the lilium were not most people--they’d been alive so long that they weren’t sure if they even were people anymore--and no doubt, with a little bit of patience and time, they would’ve found a way as their age had made them wise and powerful.

their age had also made them lazy. they decided they’d much prefer to wait for the star to come to them.

their power waned further. it had been decades since the king had stopped his rampaging up and down the borders of his lands; their magic was almost nonexistent and they were hungrier than ever.

and then, after decades, a star fell. she was a pretty thing, as stars are. as fate would have it, she landed in the swamp that had formed outside their palace, which now looked more like a troll’s hovel. the witches used the last of their remaining magic to tidy up their place and to serve the star until she glowed as bright as she had in the sky, and then they tied her down and cut into her chest with blades forged in dragon’s breath, removed her heart and put it in a box. the body was left to rot somewhere in the swamp.

now, only a few slivers of her heart remained, but it was just enough for one of them to use to find the new star. “i’ll go,” megaera said, smiling. “it’s my birthday.” (neither of the sisters was particularly sentimental, but if it granted them an advantage they would happily put on as large a production as was required.)

“no it’s not,” alecto said, huffing. “ _my_ birthday’s this month. besides, i’m the eldest,” she said, preening. “i’ll go.” megaera made to protest. alecto silenced her with a glare. she snatched the box off the table and opened it, stared inside pensively, until megaera snapped, “what are you waiting for,” upon which she grabbed the small piece of heart left and swallowed it whole, petulantly.

the effect was almost instantaneous. where before everything had seemed dull, ugly, it was now bright and beautiful. all that had been quiet was loud. she could see everything that was, everything that had been, everything that would be. she was lilium once more.

 

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when reyna woke the next morning, annabeth was sprawled out on the ground in front of her, fast asleep. her dress, which had already been worse for wear, was now nearly unrecognizable--the bright blue silk had become sullied with mud and grass stains and there were large tears around the hem. annabeth didn’t seem to care.

reyna considered letting her sleep. annabeth was clearly tired and she wouldn’t be able to walk. they had no means of travelling or money, just the topaz hanging around annabeth’s neck and the things that reyna’s mother had given her (somehow, the snowdrop had survived both her crash landing and her treacherous climb up the crater wall and subsequent nap, but the candle was half gone.)

they were also in the middle of an unfamiliar wood, alone, with no food or shelter or protection.

reyna sighed, reaching over and nudging annbeth, who merely grunted and rolled over. reyna nudged her again. annabeth bolted upright. “wha--?”

“we have to go,” reyna said apologetically, standing and trying to get some of the mud of her dress before placing the bag back on her shoulder.

“where?” annabeth moaned, “why?”

“food,” reyna said, looking around anxiously. “and we need new clothes too. and maybe a room at an inn.”

“i don’t need food,” annabeth mumbled.

reyna scoffed, turning to raise an eyebrow at annabeth, before she remembered who she was talking to and stopped abruptly.

after a rather awkward moment, annabeth sighed and heaved herself upright, looking around. “there’s a road there, i think.” she pointed in the direction of a dirt path a ways away from them.

“will you be able to walk?” reyna asked hesitantly, glancing down at her leg. it seemed to have set itself somehow while they were asleep, but it was still swollen.

“it’s a little too late to be worried about that now isn’t it?” annabeth laughed, stretching, then stumbled and caught herself against a tree. she caught reyna’s gaze and waved a hand dismissively. “don’t worry about this, it’ll heal.”

“not if you injure yourself again on the road.”

annabeth scowled. “i’d rather not be left alone in the middle of a dark forest. i’m coming with you.”

reyna spent a few minutes bullying annabeth into sitting still so she could splint it (albeit poorly--hylla had favored speed over precision while teaching) and then, after annabeth had stood up and stumbled forward a few more steps, made a sweeping gesture in the direction of the dirt road. “after you, m’lady,” said annabeth.

"oh, stop that," reyna said, frowning and stepping forward. "i’m no gentlewoman.”

 

.

 

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.

 

“it’s not here, sire,” the rune-thrower said, peering down at the stones in the basin. “maybe we should travel further up north?”

kronos laughed softly. “ _maybe_.” the rune-thrower hemmed and hawed. “if i wanted someone to lead me on a wild goose chase, i would’ve hired one of the charlatans lining the roads of town square. what good are you to me if you can’t offer certainty?”

“nothing is certain, sire,” said the rune-thrower, reaching behind his back for, no doubt, the knife he’d tucked into his belt.

kronos rolled his eyes. “not even my reputation?”

“...sire?”

kronos smiled, sugar-sweet. “i trust you’ve heard of my...punishments.”

“yes, sire...very clever?”

“i was benevolent with most, yes?” the rune-thrower opened his mouth to answer; kronos continued without letting him answer. “but the one thing i truly cannot stand is betrayal. accordingly, i was much harsher on deserters.

the rune-thrower paled.

“what do you supposed i’d do to a man who led me on a wild goose chase and attempted to poison my wine at the behest of my brother, all while acting as though he were a loyal employee?” the rune-thrower made to run, but before he got far, kronos reached forward and slit his throat.

“you see, the one thing i loathe more than a traitor,” kronos began, taking the bloodied rune stones from the dead man’s hands, “is my brother.”

 

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.

 

four hours into their trek, annabeth realized that she didn’t actually know the other girl’s name. it hadn’t come up much as neither of them were particularly loquacious, and the few times the other girl had deemed it safe to rest, she’d said nothing aside from the occasional mumbled remark concerning the state of her leg and the stick of wood she’d tied to it before they left.

annabeth was sure that in theory, they’d be able make it all the way to the inn without her ever having to learn her companion’s name, but she decided it was probably best to ask anyway.

the girl frowned at her. “reyna,” she said slowly, as though confused as to why annabeth would be interested in her name at all.

annabeth hummed. “d’you know where we’re going at all?”

the girl raised a hand suddenly and pointed to a spot in the distance. “the nearest inn is a few meters east,” she said automatically, then blinked and stared at her hands.

“are you sure?” annabeth asked, now wary.

reyna nodded. “although i’m not sure why…”

annabeth watched her shoulders droop, noticed the uncertainty that had manifested itself all too clearly on her face. “we can worry about that later,” she said, as gently as she could manage.

reyna blinked again then nodded and glanced up at the sky. “it’s getting late,” she said, worrying at her bottom lip. “we need to move faster.”

annabeth huffed. “i don’t think i can. not for a while anyway.”

reyna sighed. “a few more hours,” she said gently, “then we’ll stop. i promise.” and then, almost as if the universe had heard her increasingly desperate pleas for help, something charged out of the woods and stopped in front of them, impeding their progress. annabeth collapsed against a tree on the edge of the path as the white blur became--”a _unicorn_?” reyna asked, incredulously, lifting a hand as if to touch it and then lowering it suddenly a few seconds later.

the unicorn pawed at the ground as annabeth grinned. “hello,” annabeth said, brightly, as the unicorn trotted toward her like an excitable pet, which she supposed it was, even if she’d only ever seen it in passing. “my mother sent you, didn’t she.”

reyna raised her eyebrows. “you have a mother?”

annabeth turned to sniff at her, affronted. “everything has a mother.” the unicorn nosed at her shoulder then walked a ways down the path, stopping a few steps in to turn and watch them expectantly.

“it wants us to...follow it?”

the unicorn huffed again. annabeth hummed, stumbling forward once more. the unicorn lowered itself down as she approached. annabeth laughs. “oh, i couldn’t,” she said, staring apprehensively at its back, “but thank you for offering."

reyna looked up again, her brow furrowed. “you probably should. it’s getting late,” she repeated, pointedly.

annabeth made a few increasingly ridiculous attempts to climb on the creature’s back, and then, on her fifth try, she managed to balance herself across the creature’s back like an acrobat from one of the london faires, before shuffling about so she was sitting upright, wincing slightly. “right. do you want to…?”

she trailed off, but it seemed that even the unicorn understood, because before reyna had even opened her mouth to protest, the unicorn huffed and shook its head about before taking a few steps forward. annabeth whispered an admonishment, then turned sheepishly to reyna. “guess you’ll have to walk then.”

“‘s not a problem,” reyna said, as she casted a sideways glance at the unicorn. “i’m used to it,” said reyna, because she was.

“off we go then,” annabeth said, raising one hand to the sky like a storybook hero. the unicorn set off at a gallop. “slowly!” reyna heard annabeth scream in the distance as the unicorn slowed, reluctantly, huffing something that sounded like a laugh as reyna caught up.

 

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.

 

.

 

witches were something of a problem in the kingdom of olympus.

the public had tolerated them in the past because the royal family--or rather, the king--had entrusted them with their dirty work on certain occasions, and also because the public had plenty of their own dirty work to be done. now that the king was dead, the throne empty, the public was fond of pretending they were the mundane equivalent of saints whatever that may be) and refused to employ the witches, elves, and other assorted creatures that lived in olympus.

as such, the witches, elves, and other assorted non-human populaces were forced into peddling wares and begging on dirty streets.

ditchwater sal had been by no means well off during the king’s reign, but she’d been more fortunate than most after. the humans had conducted a series of purges after the king had been declared unfit to rule, and while most witches, elves and assorted creatures had lost everything, ditchwater sal and her shop-cum-traveling home had escaped relatively unscathed.

the lilium had watched the purges apathetically from the safety of their homes back when it looked like a dilapidated palace as opposed to an ogre’s swamp residence, although their windows were grimy and warped beyond repair even then. the little that they had been able to make out--fire, pitchforks--had convinced them that all of their people had been killed.

which was why alecto, upon finding a little wooden home on wheels surrounded by a patchwork of various wards and the campsite in front of it (complete with green fire) was understandably surprised.

someone, the owner of the vehicle presumably, stuck their head out through one of the small windows near the door. “oi!” they said, “get away from there!” alecto started. there was a great racket from inside: things falling over and hitting other things, the witch cursing loudly, the two goats tied to the front of the caravan bleating loudly, and then the door flew open and hit the side of the caravan with a bang.

“if you’ve broken any of my things, you’ll be paying for them, mind.” the witch waved a hand. the door slammed shut again as she climbed down the small, steep stairs and came to a halt at alecto’s feet.

“i have no reason to touch any of your possessions. they’re nearly worthless,” alecto said, sniffing.

the witch scowled and stood taller, which didn’t help. she was still very short. “well, if you’re not going to be breaking or buying anything, then you can leave.

alecto narrowed her eyes. “you can’t talk to me like that.”

the witch snorted. “and why’s that?”

alecto gave them a long, hard look, then waved her hand to dispel the glamour she had put up before leaving her palace. the witch stared as the color bled out of alecto’s eyes, leaving behind only a blinding white. the wind picked up suddenly, and the sky went dark all at once. the green fire went out after a great gust of wind toppled the caravan, which had already been swaying dangerously. the goats screamed, straining against the rope tied around their necks.

the witch dropped to her knees, already stuttering out prayers and apologies. alecto rolled her eyes and waved a hand again. the winds died down just as quickly as they’d picked up. the sky was once more a bright blue. the caravan did not right itself.

“oh, hush,” said alecto, “i won’t kill you just yet. i need information.”

“about what, your highness?”

“a fallen star.”

“a fallen star?” the witch straightened; her eyes brightened. “a star’s fallen?”

“why else would i ask after a star?” alecto said, rolling her eyes again.

“i haven’t seen one,” the witch said, excitedly, “but if i have i certainly won’t be tellin’ anyone about it. i’m gettin’ it for myself, see. haven’t had that much power in _ages_.” she was practically salivating now.

alecto saw red. the witch continued to ramble on about the things she would do after finding the star (“make meself a nice meal, maybe summon a few gemstones, and then i’d buy--”). “you wish to look for _my_ star?”

“it isn’t yours until you’ve found it,” she said, laughing. alecto glared. the witch fell to the ground again. “i mean, i won’t go lookin’ for it, i swear--”

“you can look for it all you like,” alecto hissing, raising one now spotted hand, “but you shall not see the star, nor touch it, smell it or hear it. you will not perceive it even if it stands before you.”

the witch nodded vigorously. "of course, your majesty, i won't--"

alecto rolled her eyes and surveyed the campsite. “oh, and one more thing,” she said. “i want your goats.”

“of course, your majesty,” the witch stammered, scurrying to cut them loose, “you can take anything you like, absolutely anything--”

“oh shut up,” alecto snapped.

the witch quieted, bowed deeply, then collected her things, righted her caravan, and was gone with another wave of her hand.

alecto tilted her head, studying her goats. she waved her hand again, and they became humans, one man, one young girl, then, she turned to survey the small patch of now-empty land. her goats-turned-humans watched, bewildered (presumably--it was rather difficult to determine what animals-turned-humans were thinking, or even if they were thinking at all).

“an inn,” she said, pensively. the goats-turned-humans huffed. “yes,” alecto said, decisively. “an inn will do nicely.”


	2. two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "ugh," said the innkeeper. "a prince."

normally, reyna would’ve been suspicious of an inn with no customers or notable surroundings, but she was too tired of walking to question much of anything, and she suspected annabeth felt the same way.

and so annabeth dismounted the unicorn and limped over to ring the bell and reyna walked the unicorn, which was, for some reason, being unreasonably stubborn, to the stables where it sat after a great deal of huffing and whining, gazing at reyna balefully. reyna rolled her eyes and went to join annabeth just as someone opened the door--a woman, who seemed somehow old and young at the same time.

her face was smooth, unwrinkled, her eyes bright, but her hands were liver-spotted and her fingernails and teeth were yellowed and cracked, and she stooped over when she walked though she wasn’t near old enough to need to. it seemed strange to reyna, but then most things about this kingdom did, so she said nothing.

the innkeeper, however, was not so reticent. “welcome to our inn!” she said, brightly, watching annabeth intently, “aren’t you just the prettiest young thing! what, just _what_ i say--” here, she reached forward and tapped annabeth’s shoulder with a wooden spoon, “--are you doing out and about in the middle of a storm like this?”

reyna opened her mouth to say that there was no storm, and then it began raining so hard that she wondered if she had been imagining the clear skies. annabeth glanced up at the clouds, looking just as confused as reyna felt.

before either of them could answer her question, the innkeeper waved a hand dismissively. “nevermind that. why don’t you come inside, dear.” she reached past reyna to pull annabeth inside the inn. reyna slipped inside just as she shut the door. annabeth wrapped her arms around her waist and shuffled closer to reyna. the innkeeper tsked. “we’ll get you a hot bath, and maybe get you something for your leg. how does that sound?”

annabeth hesitated. reyna considered their circumstances. “that would be wonderful,” reyna said, finally, smiling. “thank you so much.”

the innkeeper’s bright smile faltered. “right,” she said, looking reyna up and down as though she hadn’t noticed her there before. “my husband will take you to your room.”

a man stepped forward, holding a pitcher, then stopped. they stared at each other for a few seconds, reyna and annabeth and the innkeeper’s husband, until the innkeeper cleared her throat loudly. her husband didn’t move. “don’t mind him,” the innkeeper said quickly, glaring, “he was...dropped on his head as a child. i’ll take you.”

annabeth followed the innkeeper up the stairs eagerly, if a bit clumsily. reyna trailed behind, slinging the bag farther over her shoulder, too unsettled to care that her dress was still very wet, and sticking to her body in uncomfortable places. a young girl--the innkeeper’s daughter, perhaps?--smiled at her tentatively. “hello,” said reyna.

the girl nodded. reyna heard rushing water from upstairs, then annabeth’s voice, muffled. “what’s your name?” reyna asked. the chandelier above began to creak ominously. the husband hadn’t moved. he was now toeing at the ground.

the girl smirked. “billy,” she said, in the voice of a person twenty years older than she.

reyna narrowed her eyes, rushed up the stairs to annabeth’s room and threw open the door. annabeth yelped and sunk further into the tub. reyna flushed and averted her eyes. “are you alright?”

“yes,” annabeth said quickly.

the innkeeper, who was standing by annabeth’s feet, reached a hand behind her back. “are you _sure_?” reyna asked, glaring at the innkeeper.

“ _yes_ ,” annabeth hissed.

reyna reluctantly closed the door, glaring at the innkeeper all the while, just as another door opened downstairs with a bang. the girl--billy?--screamed over the sound of thunder. the innkeeper opened the door to annabeth’s room and pushed past reyna.

reyna looked over the balcony in front of her to see a man dressed in what looked to be ink-black robes, sopping wet. “i am oceanus, eldest son of the late-king ouranos of olympus,” said oceanus, eldest son of the late-king ouranos of olympus.

“ugh,” said the innkeeper, “a prince.”

“i ask--no, _demand_ that you grant me a room.”

annabeth stepped out of her room in a fluffy white robe, flushed and noticeably glowing, the topaz swaying on the end of the chain around her neck. “what’s going on?” she whispered.

“a prince has come,” reyna said, worrying at the strap of her bag. “sorry about before--” she started, annabeth shushed her, making a dismissive gesture.

"this is to be your payment," said oceanus, eldest son of the late-king ouranos of olympus below, waving a bag of coins in the innkeeper’s face. “should you refuse, i swear on my father’s grave, i will kill--”

“alright, alright,” the innkeeper said, swiftly snatching his bag of coins. “stay here.”

oceanus thanked her, then craned his neck and turned in a circle. annabeth wrinkled her nose at him adorably. reyna hummed, concurring.

the innkeeper went into a room, then came back out again. the prince had stopped turning; something had caught his attention. “your room is this way,” the innkeeper said, pointing up the stairs, but the prince ignored her.

“you, there,” he said, pointing up at annabeth.

“oh, that’s another one of our guests,” the innkeeper said, placing a hand on the prince’s arm, “you needn’t bother her, she has nothing of interest to you--”

the prince closed a hand around the woman’s throat. “that is not for you to decide, peasant.” the innkeeper scrabbled at his hand, until he finally let her go, and she fell to the ground, gasping for air. her husband still hadn’t moved from his spot on the floor; he was still clutching the pitcher in his hand.

the prince stepped towards the staircase, slowly. annabeth grasped reyna’s elbow. “that jewel around your neck--it does not belong to you. where did you get it.”

annabeth scowled. “what’s it to you?” she said, stepping back and pulling reyna along with her. the prince began to climb the staircase. _“_ we need to go,” she whispered.

“i will ask you only once more,” the prince said, “hand me the topaz.”

reyna reached around the inside of her bag and found the candle. annabeth stepped back again.

the prince pulled out a knife. reyna and annabeth steeled themselves to run, but before they could, the prince stopped in his tracks and keeled over. behind him, the innkeeper sighed. “bollocks,” she said, grinning at the two of them, “that knife was supposed to be for you.”

reyna and annabeth ran to the other end of the balcony, just as the board behind them burst into green flames. “magic,” annabeth whispered, as the fire grew closer to them, cornered at the end of the hallway. all the rooms went up in flames. the chandelier, now creaking again, began swaying to and fro ominously.

reyna pulled the candle out of the bag, then fumbled for annabeth’s hand and wrapped her fingers around it. “think of home, annabeth,” she said, holding it to the fire.

“what?” annabeth cried, watching as the witch pulled the knife out of the prince’s corpse.

 _“think of home_ ,” reyna repeated, and then the wick caught, and the room was spinning, the witch’s face was blurring, becoming twisted and unintelligible, everything was getting brighter, and they were moving, going up, toward the stars, higher and higher, and then, all of a sudden they stopped.

 

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reyna’s first thought was that, wherever they were, it was very cold. the second was that it was very soft. she sat up quickly, then looked down, which was a mistake. “we’re on a cloud,” she said, her stomach lurching.

“we’re on a _cloud_?” annabeth demanded, bolting upright.

“we’re on a cloud,” reyna confirmed. “what happened?”

annabeth stared up at the stars, longingly. “you thought of your home and i thought of mine, and now we’re stuck halfway between the two.”

reyna sighed. “i’m sorry.”

“don’t be. that won’t help us.” annabeth stood, wincing. “how much of the candle is left?”

reyna held up the hand that had been holding the candle, to find herself holding a stump of dark wax. the wick had burnt off sometime in between the witch starting the fire and their landing here. “nothing we can use,” reyna said mournfully.

annabeth laughed bitterly. “absolutely wonderful.” she aimed a kick at the cloud underneath them, then cursed when it merely floated away from her foot.

thunder rumbled underfoot, quickly followed by flashes of lightning. reyna thought she saw a shape in the shadows--a fruit, perhaps, or a sheep? reyna nudged annabeth’s shoulder, then pointed at the shadows. “what does that look like to you?”

annabeth frowned. “black.”

reyna shook her head. “no, you’re supposed to find shapes.” annabeth gave her a bewildered look. “it’s to pass the time.”

annabeth raised a brow incredulously then turned back to the clouds. “a dog,” she said finally, tilting her head.

“a _dog_?” reyna repeated.

“did i do something wrong?”

“no, it’s just. that’s clearly a...a horse. see?” reyna pointed at a section of shadows in the distance. “there's the head, and then tail over there.”

annabeth tilted her head even farther, then tipped it the other way. “i can’t see it.”

they spent the next few minutes pointing at various spots in the clouds around them, calling out names of animals or objects until they noticed that the shadows seemed to be moving closer.

as they stood, the shadows solidified into a ship, its edges limned by the lightning arcing up and down its...wings. “is that...normal?” reyna asked.

“pirates,” annabeth breathed.

“ _pirates?”_

“lightning trappers. from what i’ve seen they only hurt you if you interfere with their business.”

“pirates don’t do business,” reyna said, narrowing her eyes at the approaching vessel.

the pirates, now in earshot, let out a chorus of jeers and shouts, as if to illustrate her point. reyna glared up at them. “what d’you want?”

the pirates quieted as one, stepping away from the edge of the boat, making way for someone. their jeers became murmurs, but they were too far away for reyna to discern what they were saying. another man leaned over the side of the boat, tall, dark, and handsome. “what’s that then?” he asked.

“ _what_ do you _want_?” reyna repeated. annabeth crossed her arms and tried to look menacing.

the man smiled. “what all pirates want,” he yelled, steering the boat closer to them. “money.”

“we haven’t got money,” reyna said, clutching the strap of her bag protectively, “or anything else of value, so you can be on your way.”

annabeth toed at the cloud (a nervous habit, reyna had realized), then looked down, bewildered, then cursed. “don’t mind her,” annabeth called, nervously, “we might be persuaded to trade for safe passage.”

“no, we won’t--”

“we most certainly will!” annabeth hissed, without moving her mouth, “this cloud is close to collapsing.”

“clouds don’t _collapse_.”

“the words i use don’t matter reyna, the fact of the matter is, we need to get off of it!”

reyna sighed. “i’ve got a magic candle,” she said, pulling the thing out of her bag and waving it about in the air, hoping that the dark would conceal its length (or rather, lack thereof.)

there was more murmuring and then shouting, and then the man from before leaned over the side of the boat again. “we’re letting down a ladder,” he said, as a ladder swung down into view. “climb aboard.”

they climbed.

 

.

 

.

 

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kronos, youngest son of the late-king ouranos of olympus, was vexed. not because his brother was dead, but because--well, actually that was the crux of the matter. it was all very well that the idiot had finally dropped dead, but to get _murdered_ and leave kronos with the duty of avenging his death was pushing the envelope as far as bonds of fraternity were concerned.

it was ironic, kronos mused, that oceanus had died here, in the midst of a ruined inn in the country, miles from any sizeable bodies of water, not a book in sight. oceanus had been many things, but a traveller was not one of them. had it been possible, his brother would’ve lived in an opulent villa on the beach, surrounded by sand and old books for all eternity. if he’d ever learned of his fate, he would’ve dropped dead of horror.

kronos sighed and nudged the remains of a chandelier with his foot. “this is--

“--good, isn’t it!” said the coachman cheerfully. he’d been watching the proceedings with morbid curiosity all afternoon: the soldiers had bustling about the clearing, organizing pieces of wood into neat stacks, removing the metal from the various fixtures that had been somehow fused to the wood, and studiously avoiding his brothers corpse, unless it was to relieve it of the gold pieces in the pocket of his coat or the rings stuffed onto his fingers. “means you’re king now, doesn’t it?” kronos blinked. he hadn’t thought of that. he said as much.

oceanus huffed. he had been watching the proceedings since they set out to find him, albeit with far less alacrity than the coachman. “have to find the topaz first, you prick.”

kronos frowned, then said, “of course i’ll have to find the bloody topaz first,” almost as if he’d heard, which of course he hadn’t. he waved a hand at his brother’s corpse. “i'll have to set the avenging business aside until later, though. will someone please get rid of that before the flies start burrowing?” the coachman rushed forward gleefully.

an hour later, with his brother’s body made ash and kronos and his entourage just about ready to leave, one of the soldiers stepped behind the rather conveniently placed stacks of wood to relieve himself and found another body. this one, however, was very much alive.

a long moment later, just as kronos was beginning to become suspicious, the soldier called, “sire! i’ve found something.”

kronos huffed, stepped down from the carriage, and joined his soldier. “what’s your name?” said he to the boy, who was quivering, either from fear or from the cold, or a combination of both.

“billy.”

“d’you know what happened here?” the boy nodded. kronos raised an eyebrow. the boy glanced expectantly at kronos’ purse. kronos sighed and tossed a handful of gold pieces onto the ground. “what did you see?”

“witch,” the boy mumbled, scrabbling at dirt and grass. “threw a knife at the old man. old man wanted something to do with a girl.”

“what did she look like?” kronos asked.

“the girl?”

“the witch.”

“blonde. sort of tall. skinny. not old,  but not young.” the boy held a gold piece up to the light of the setting sun.

“mean,” added oceanus, scowling. his voice was the whistle of the passing breeze.

“she seemed normal, mostly,” the boy said shrugging. “except for the part where she made me a girl. but before that, i was a goat, so that wasn’t too strange either.”

kronos stared at the boy for a minute, then sighed. “and the girl?”

“blonde. skinny. young. had a gemstone hanging around her neck. ‘fink your brother wanted it, actually,” the boy said scratching at his head. “he tried to take it before the witch killed ‘im.”

kronos grinned.”now _this_ ,” he said, turning to the coachman, “is good news.”

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

 

pirates, as it turned out, were not fond of being deceived. they’d known reyna was lying as soon as she’d opened her mouth. after annabeth had been pulled aboard, both of them had been tied to a wooden post in what seemed to be a makeshift kitchen on the lower deck and the pirates had then gone to another room to deliberate.

twenty minutes had passed since then. reyna could still hear them yelling through the closed door. pirates, as it turned out, were not very fond of being quiet either. “what d’you think they’re saying?” annabeth asked, her temple resting against the wood. she watched the pots, pans and other assorted cutlery sway to and fro as the ship hit a spot of turbulence.

“probably something about wanting to kill us.”

annabeth let out a bark of laughter. “don’t be stupid. they’d loot us first, obviously.”

reyna grinned despite herself. “and what a travesty it would be to be relieved of a glass flower and a lump of wax.”

annabeth sobered and craned her neck so she was facing reyna’s cheek. “thank you for saving me.”

“of course,” reyna said softly.

the room grew quiet then, save for the sharp claps of thunder, until the door opened a few minutes later with a bang. the man from earlier, who reyna had since come to understand was called “captain shakespeare,” walked up to them as the door was slammed shut again behind him.

“what are you going to do?” annabeth asked.

captain shakespeare pulled a knife from his belt and grinned rakishly.

reyna and annabeth shrank back instinctively, but the captain made no move to hurt them. he dragged a barrel over to the door, then turned it upside down. he took a fruit of some kind off the table in front of reyna and cut it into quarters. then he sat and stared for ten minutes, pensively.

“look, we didn’t want to lie,” reyna said, after a long moment of silence, “but we had to! we were being chased by a witch, you see, and we used the candle to escape. all we want is to go home, so if you can let us off near wall--”

captain shakespeare straightened abruptly. “wall? _”_ he said. “as in Wall, _england_?”

“yes,” said reyna, “if you could drop me there, or at the very least, find us another one of those candles, then we’d really appreciate it--”

captain shakespeare leaned forward and cut the ropes. “come with me,” he said, striding out onto the deck. they followed. the rest of the pirates, who had had their ears to the wall for the last half hour, tried to look inconspicuous and failed. captain shakespeare strode on, seemingly oblivious.

“captain?” one of the men asked, tentatively.

captain shakespeare stopped; reyna nearly walked into his back. annabeth cursed.

“what are you going to do with them?” said another crew member.

the captain grinned rakishly. “steal their gold, then make them walk the plank.”

“oh for god’s sake,” annabeth said, loudly. reyna tried to stifle a laugh behind her palm.

the captain narrowed his eyes. “you got a problem with that.”

“i do, as a matter of fact,” said annabeth, placing her hands on her hips. “i dunno about you, but i’d rather not be dropped to my death over gold pieces that don’t exist. _we don’t have any money_ , and you’d do well to finally get that through your heads. or as pirates really as _stupid_ as they seem. _”_

“be that as it may,” the captain snarled, baring his teeth, “deception cannot go unpunished.” he climbed a ladder and stopped in front of his quarters, then turned to look at the two of them expectantly.

annabeth moved to follow, jaw tight, fists clenched. reyna stopped her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “we can’t go in there,” she said, voice low.

annabeth glared at the captain’s back, then sighed. “what else are we to do?” she asked. she gestured at the ship’s railings. “jump?”

reyna sighed too. “steady on then.”

captain shakespeare helped both of them up the ladder, locked the door behind him, and turned to them with a grin. “right. take off your dresses.”

“ _excuse me--_ ”

“it’s to help you stay alive!” he walked into a side room and came back holding two person-shaped pieces of wood. “we’ll put them on these mannequins, and then maybe get you some…” he wrinkled his nose. “ _nicer_ things.”

“you--” reyna started, then trailed off, not knowing what to say. she settled on, "you're not going to...watch are you?"

the captain stared at her for a few seconds, then started. "oh no, of course not--" he sputtered, reaching underneath his lacquered desk to pull out an ornately decorated privacy screen. _some pirate,_ thought reyna. “propriety’s not much of a concern on a pirate ship, but i kept one of these around because...well. just because. you can change in there,” he said to annabeth, pointing at the side room door, looking her up and down critically, like a seamstress studying a new fabric and finding it lacking. “see if you can't find something...clean to wear.”

they disrobed; reyna threw her dress over the screen, annabeth opened the door slightly and held out her own soiled, torn dress. reyna saw the captain’s shadow consider them for a minute. he tossed annabeth’s dress in a dustbin, then maneuvered reyna’s over one of the mannequins, then left the room. reyna moved to peer through the small window on the wall behind her to see captain shakespeare march pseudo-reyna over to the deck, then throw her over the railing. she winced.

the captain turned to the crew, who had been watching from the other side of the deck, raised his arms, and cheered. the answering cheers of the crew drowned out the sound of the mannequin hitting the ocean below.

the captain came back into the room after his crew went quiet and locked the door again. “right. done?”

they answered in the affirmative. the captain turned to address the closed side-room door. “would you mind letting us in?” the door swung open with a creak.

the first thing reyna saw after entering was annabeth, draped in layers of blue tulle and silk that bared her shoulders and part of her back, her blonde hair coiled in a bun at the base of her neck. reyna stared at the curve of annabeth’s neck, her collarbones, her mouth which was now stretched in a grin that she was trying in vain to control.

the captain cleared his throat. reyna jumped, then looked at her feet. “how is it?”

“wonderful!” annabeth blurted, grinning at reyna. the glow that reyna had noticed upon meeting her in the crater had dimmed over the days, first because of the pain in her ankle, then disappeared almost entirely after the witch had tried to kill her, but was now back in full force, so bright that reyna could see it on the back of her eyelids even after she’d looked away.

“wonderful,” captain shakespeare echoed, turning to reyna with a particular gleam in his eyes. “now let’s see if we can’t find something for you, and you can tell me about beautiful england while you wait.”

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

“what d’you mean you _lost_ the star,” megaera demanded, glaring at her sister’s reflection in the scrying mirror.

“have you become deaf since last i saw you?” alecto said, rolling her eyes. “i mean it escaped. got away.”

megaera scoffed. “of course it did,” she said, as alecto mouthed the same phrase back at her from a hundred miles away, just as she had when they were children. ah, the wonders of magic.

alecto narrowed her eyes. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“all you had to do was wait until it was asleep, then tie it down and use the knife!” megaera crossed her arms. tisiphone could see alecto bracing herself, raising her chin, setting her jaw. “this wouldn’t have happened if _i’d_ gone looking for her. _i_ wouldn’t have used the last of our magic on my bloody hair.”

alecto’s jaw dropped. “i’d like to remind you that it was _i_ who caught the last one--” (it wasn’t.)

megaera laughed bitterly. “no, you’re the one who _killed_ it. _i’m_ the one who had to chase it around the palace--” (it hadn’t been her either.)

“never mind that,” tisiphone interrupted hurriedly. “do you know where she’s headed now?”

(tisiphone had caught the last star. she was the one who’d killed three rabbits doing augers, she was the one who’d wandered around the swamp while her sisters were sleeping, red-handed, red-eyed, to find it after it fell, she was the one who had searched the palace when the star had tried to escape, she was the one found it as her sisters screamed in the room behind her, tearing portraits and drapes from the walls, she was the one who’d coaxed it back into the bedchamber she’d given up for it. it had been her. not alecto or megaera. just tisiphone.)

“no,” alecto said, still glaring at megaera. “the runestones aren’t working.”

“what d’you mean they _aren’t working_?” megaera said again, in that voice that had nearly driver her to murder time and time again, loud and unbearably shrill.

“there’s no point in talking if you’re just going to say the same thing--”

“we’ll do an auger,” tisiphone sighed quietly, pulling a rabbit out of its cage by the feet. alecto began to pace. megaera handed her a knife, and together, they sorted through the entrails.

“it’s over water,” said megaera a few minutes later. “on a boat. you’ll have to catch it when reaches land.”

"of course it is," alecto sighed and covered the mirror again without so much as a thank you.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

 

“are you _from_ england?” reyna asked, stepping out from behind a wall of clothing in her third pair of trousers. (“i only had the one dress,” the captain had said apologetically. reyna had to fight to tamp down her glee. how long had she wanted to work in clothes that wouldn’t trip her?)

“that’s the one!” the captain said, shoving a shirt at her. “i’m not, but my father used to work the market.”

“the nine years market?” reyna took the shirt and sank back into the fabric.

the captain hummed. “ i used to look across the wall and imagine living there. sowing my oats, both literally and figuratively. but before i could…” he gestured vaguely at the rest of the ship. “england’s why i picked the name shakespeare, y’know. the others all think it means ‘shake spear--’” he picked up half of a broken one and shook it, to illustrate his point. “but i loved his plays. father used to read them to me.”

“d’you think you’ll be able to go someday?” annabeth asked.

“the future is a fickle mistress,” the captain said, which wasn’t an answer.

reyna stepped out from behind the clothes again. “beautiful!” the captain smiled.

“yeah?” reyna asked, smoothing the fabric down her thighs.

“yeah,” annabeth said softly, catching her gaze and holding it. reyna looked away a few seconds later; her heart was beating too fast. the tips of annabeth’s ears were red.

“right,” the captain said after a long moment, clearing his throat loudly, “we’ll reach port in a few hours. make yourselves comfortable.” he walked out, whistling, then seemed to remember something and abruptly rushed back in again.

“one more thing,” he said, nervously. “you can’t tell the crew about this.”

“and why’s that?” reyna asked, fingering one of the shirts, a dark green, fabric so light it felt like woven air, embroidered with thin gold thread.

“i’ve got something of a reputation, you see,” the captain said, running a hand through his already messy dark curls. “this--” he gestured at the clothing “--would ruin it.” the girls blinked. he sighed. “the safety of any pirate crew depends on fear, you understand?”

they didn’t, but they nodded anyway. he nodded back, then left again.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

annabeth had dreamed about visiting olympus for years, imagined opulence, lavish parties, candlelight reflected off pale, thick slabs of marble, her fingers curled around the delicate stem of a wine glass, dancing with her sisters draped in silk and velvet, twirling around pretty women in rooms smelling of rose and jasmine, gold in the furniture, on the walls, dangling from the ceiling.

she had not imagined this (this being dark wood gilded in dust and grime, streets steeped in the scent of brine, slanted roofs and stalls tucked into dark corners, tall, broad men making their way through crowded alleys, the tails of their dark coats following them like shadows, fishwives haggling with the shopkeepers, voices rising over the quiet din in protest as they called out numbers and waved hands) but it was almost _better_. it was loud and uncaring, and maybe that was another sort of opulence.

“remember, the crew thinks you’re just a...a wench that i’ve kept on,” captain shakespeare said.

annabeth frowned. “a wench?”

“it was the only thing i could think of that would keep you alive and help me maintain my reputation.”

right. fearsome, brutal captain shakespeare, who owned a closet full of elaborately tailored shirts and had a fondness for literature from across the wall.

a child ran past her, wearing an eyepatch and yelling inane gibberish. she laughed and the captain did too. the first mate, who the captain had brought with them to carry his things, smiled.

he knew something, annabeth could tell. in fact, she was sure most of the crew did--the captain was many things, but a skilled liar was not one of them--and still, they said nothing. she huffed and thought about something else. “where are we going?” she asked the captain, happily drinking everything in.

“to see an old...friend of mine,” the captain said, wincing as he shouldered past a group of young girls, “a trader by the name of hermes.”

“is that his real name, or another moniker?”

“haven’t asked,” the captain answered quietly.

“but you haven’t got anything to trade, i don’t understand--” she cut herself off and glanced backwards at the ridiculously large bag the first mate was carrying. “you’re trading lightning!” annabeth breathed. the captain hummed. “when did you catch it? how much do you think it’s worth?”

“the crew caught it, before i threw your girl to her death,” the captain laughed. “won’t know how much he’ll give us ‘til we get there.”

hermes’ stall was at the very center of the dockside market, but somehow it was the cleanest of the lot, even if there were things covering every available surface.

“shakespeare,” hermes said, smiling in a way that was a little too familiar for a mere customer.

“hermes,” the captain said, smoothly, even as his hands trembled when he clasped them together. “we’ve got lightning to sell. i expect a fair price this time.” he was biting back a smile.

when hermes said, “fair enough,” without so much as a glance at the merchandise, so sweetly annabeth could almost hear his grin, it sounded like _i’ve missed you._

“right,” the captain said, gaze flitting from hermes’ face to his feet then back again, as though even looking at him was too much to bear. the first mate set the bag on the ground carefully.

“right,” hermes echoed, teasing, gaze lingering for just a second longer, before he turned away. “let’s see it then.”

the captain reached back into the bag and pulled out a long, silver tube. the first mate took a step back and pulled annabeth along with him. she craned her neck as the captain unscrewed the top. a few seconds later, the room was bathed in stark shadows and the air around the captain’s hands was crackling.

“i’ve seen enough,” said hermes, raising his voice so as to be heard over the lightning.

the captain screwed the cap back on. the shadows were gone, but annabeth could still see them, edged in blues and purples and greens. the room smelled like something was burning. “there it is,” the captain said, blinking rapidly, then turning to look somewhere two inches to the left of hermes’ face. “a tube of the finest grade a this side of the palace. five hundred pieces.”

hermes raised his eyebrows. “and to think, i’d forgotten how ridiculous you were. i won’t give any more than two hundred.”

“three fifty, and not a coin less.”

“not a coin less, then,” hermes repeated, almost a laugh. the captain straightened, blinked a few more times, then found hermes’ gaze and held it, like a challenge. the corners of his lips quirked up; almost a smirk.

hermes’ hands brushed against the captain’s as he handed over the money, and annabeth looked away as hermes laced their fingers together, pretended not to see the way that the captain leaned into him almost as though he couldn’t help it, the way looked at each other then, all warmth and want. she knew the first mate was doing the same. how long had they loved each other?

“come find me, later?” hermes asked, so gently that annabeth almost walked out into the street so as not to intrude.

the captain pulled the other man into a hug, exhaled into his hair slowly. “you know i will.”

she thought of other hands, another voice, soft and sweet, sighed. (“ _yeah_?” reyna had asked, as if she could’ve ever thought reyna looked anything other than beautiful.)

she said nothing as they made their way back to the ship. she saw the captain and the first mate exchange a look, but before either of them could say anything, one of the shopkeepers called the captain’s name.

the captain looked up. “arsehole,” and this time, there was no teasing in voice, only a grim sort of sincerity.

“the name’s robert, actually--”

“what do you _want_?” the captain interrupted.

“right. you uh. you get around don’t you?” the man asked.

“maybe,” the captain said shortly.

“right.” the man seemed to shrink back a little. “have you maybe--now you don’t have to answer obviously, i’m sure you’ve got better things to do but. i was wondering if you’d seen a star. you know, around.”

“been a while since you looked up, has it?” the captain bit out.

the man laughed a little too loudly. “that’s funny! i meant, uh, a fallen one.” annabeth dug her fingertips into her arms and stilled. if the captain sold her to this man, he’d--she’d end up like her sister.

captain shakespeare cocked his head. “a fallen star. here.”

the man grew bolder. “mhmm! or well roundabouts, anyway. it’d be about twenty miles from here, close to the king’s palace.”

the captain shrugged. “no, i can’t say that i have,” he said, very carefully not looking at annabeth.

“well if you do, send it to me first, would you?”

 _it_. he’d relieved her of her personhood with one word. if they stayed here any longer, she was going to shatter a plate over arsehole robert’s head.

“no,” the captain said, shortly, then added,“excuse me,” as annabeth began shoving her way through the crowd, not caring where she was going, only that she was moving away from that horrid man.

the captain caught her elbow sometime later, began steering her in the direction of the ship presumably, and she let herself be pulled, trying not to think of gwen, gwen smiling, gwen dancing, gwen with a knife in her chest.

“you alright, miss?” said the first mate. (were you supposed to call “just wench”es _miss_?)

“i’m alright,” she answered, a moment too late. “just thinking.”

she found an upturned barrel of her own after they’d gone and slumped onto it, hands still shaking. “you’re safe, aren’t you,” she said, tremulously, looking up at her sisters. a star arced across the sky in answer and she let out a short laugh, wiping at her wet cheeks. “i love you all.”

the stars were quiet.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

“oh, you’ve just missed them,” said robert the peddler, cheerfully, stringing a hock of ham up to cure. alecto’d missed them by bare minutes, and as punishment she’d be forced to listen to the peddler’s prattle and megaera’s whining. wonderful.

alecto cursed and shoved a line of pottery off the shelves. the assorted bowls fell to the floor and shattered into brightly colored pieces of clay. the peddler jumped, but said nothing, wisely. “what did it look like,” she asked, sighing.

“their bag?” said robert, the peddler, frowning.

“the girl!” alecto shouted, pressing her blade to his throat.

he swallowed nervously. “blonde? really young, maybe twenty. she was wearing a really nice dress--blue, silk maybe. would’ve fetched a pretty penny--”

alecto glared at him.

“--but you don’t care about that at all, right. oh! she was with captain shakespeare.”

“captain shakespeare?” alecto asked, narrowing her eyes.

robert nodded.

“ugh,” alecto sighed. “pirates.”

“while i agree with the sentiment, i’d just avoid him if i were you. he’s very scary. i’d almost forgotten how scary he was--and who wouldn’t in the face of, well. that face--but then he glared at me earlier today and--” robert shuddered. he frowned.“why is it that you’re looking for her anyway?”

alecto glared at him some more, but that only seemed to answer his question. he gasped, dramatically. “she’s the fallen star, isn’t she!”

alecto considered him for a minute, then sighed. “yes. but you won’t be around to find her.”

“and why’s that?” he asked.

alecto slit his throat in lieu of an answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * the names of the witch sisters are taken from the names of the furies from greek myth. alecto is featured in book one of the original series, although i don't think we ever see any of her sisters. her personality as recorded in myth has not inspired her characterization for this fic.  
> 
> * in the movie, captain shakespeare is played by robert deniro. i've aged him down quite a bit, so for the purposes of this fic, i'd imagine him to look like an older bob morley with the fashion sense of _shadowhunters'_ magnus bane. also hermes here is not the same as hermes the god; he is only named so because of his job.


	3. three; interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a series of conversations

 

they passed two more glorious weeks on the ship, after reyna had been introduced as the captain’s niece, awkward and prone to crossdressing, as young girls in his country often were apparently. (“they said she was ‘strange,’” captain shakespeare had said, clapping her on the back a bit too hard, as reyna shuffled around in her shirt and skinny trousers. “god knows why her mother sent her to me.”)

reyna learned to sword fight, with the same steady patience that carried her through twenty years as a farmer-cum-shopkeeper’s assistant, although it was not without its trials while the first mate, whose name was john, tried to teach annabeth to play the piano as he often did himself on slow nights, the crew listening from the floor under the hazy cover of night. she went along in fits and starts, more or less succeeding. (perhaps less than more. perhaps reyna had something to do with that.)

on days when the crew retired early, reyna and annabeth sat together on the deck, feet hanging over the side of the ship, skimming the tops of clouds and conversing with the stars.

“d’you miss them?” reyna asked one night, as annabeth watched her mother, the moon, make her nightly journey across the sky.

they were lying on their backs, shoulders pressed together. it was quiet out, save for the snoring of the crew and the creaking and groaning of the ship. reyna was at peace for the first time in months.

“i do,” annabeth said, “very much.”

“i miss my sister too,” reyna sighed.

“what’s she like?” annabeth asked, turning her head to watch reyna.

“she...even when we had nothing, we had each other. she’s looked after me all my life. all her life too, i suppose. she was very young when they found me.” reyna exhaled slowly, feeling the sting of tears in her eyes. “sometimes, i feel as though i’ve taken her life from her.” annabeth didn’t say anything, just breathed.

reyna hadn’t had much time to think of anything from back home, especially after the encounter with the witch. now that all was calm, she found that she was more homesick than she’d expected and yet…”i don’t think i want to go back to Wall. not just yet.”

“i don’t either,” annabeth said, staring up at the stars apologetically. “want to go back up, i mean.”

reyna rolled onto her side. “why not?” she asked, staring into annabeth’s eyes, wide and liquid and alive.

annabeth was quiet for a moment. “everything here is so...different. there’s so much to do and see.” she reached out and placed a hand on reyna’s cheek carefully. reyna felt her breath catch. “there are things here that i wouldn’t be able to find there.”

reyna’s mind was so addled by exhaustion, by annabeth, warm and soft, that she didn’t even try to parse out what that might mean. “thank you for staying,” she said instead. reyna zeroed in on the mole under the corner of annabeth’s left eye, the bright gold of her hair by moonlight, the grey of her eyes.

annabeth smiled, slow and sweet. “of course,” she said, tracing the curve of reyna's cheekbone with her thumb, and reyna exhaled into the night air to keep herself from doing anything stupid.

.

.

.

for their last day on the boat, the captain decided it would be a good idea to have a dance, of sorts. it was a terrible idea--half the crew had peg-legs, and the other half wouldn’t know how to follow a beat if their lives depended on it, so instead it was decided that annabeth would dance with the captain, john would provide the music, and everyone else would watch.

the captain had opted to wear some of the nicer clothes from his “hidden” closet, a shirt in a rich navy blue fabric with a neckline that left his collarbones bared, and dark trousers a shade tighter than his normal ones. “how do i look?” he asked, as annabeth stepped closer to him. his cheeks were ruddy.

“you’re seeing hermes tonight,” she said quietly, grinning.

“perhaps,” the captain said, his expression still carefully shuttered.

“you two really ought to settle down,” annabeth said, and, “you should know that i really can’t dance.”

“rubbish,” the captain said, waving a hand; annabeth couldn’t tell which sentiment he was speaking to. john turned the crank on some bizarre contraption, so rusted that it looked as though it was seconds away from collapsing.

music filtered through the large horn on top, high strings followed by the smooth chords of a piano. it was something that would've put her to sleep, normally, although reyna couldn't see how she'd ever sleep tonight, not with...everything that had happened, everything that would happen.

“speaking of settling down,” the captain said, carefully settling one hand on her waist and taking her own hand with the other before casting a meaningful glance at reyna.

annabeth avoided his gaze, and contemplated stepping on his foot nine or ten times. “now you’re the one speaking rubbish.”

the captain laughed. “i know what you are, annabeth,” he whispered. annabeth went stiff again, reminded of that day at port. “i mean you no harm, but i did want to point out that you’ve been glowing brighter and brighter with every passing day, and i think you know why.” he tossed a wink at reyna, who rolled her eyes, smiling.

annabeth scoffed. “i’m a star,” she whispered. “it’s what we do.”

the captain hummed. “be that as it may, you will have to do something about those pesky feelings soon,” he said, watching something behind her. “or they will get you both into trouble.”

the captain twirled her, and for a second she saw reyna watching her, warmth and want.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this is so short, i've been working on so many fics and studying for finals, etc. etc. so making time for writing has been difficult. i hope u enjoy this regardless, and now that i'm on break, i shld be able to work on and post pt 4 sometime soon?


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